


Wolf Pack

by feralbunny



Series: Bad Boyfriends [5]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Creampie, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't Judge, F/M, Female Reader, Forced Orgasm, Grooming, Light Masochism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pack Dynamics, Pain, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sanity gone right out of the window, Toxic Relationship, Urination, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28684164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralbunny/pseuds/feralbunny
Summary: You are the recently added member to the Murphy-Metzger wolf pack.
Relationships: Farz Murphy/Reader, Farz Murphy/Vincent, Farz Murphy/Vincent/Reader, Vincent (Boyfriend to Death)/Reader
Series: Bad Boyfriends [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692463
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Wolf Pack

Vincent was on his way to getting goddamn, motherfucking pissed. Not only was his pocket ringing, vibrating, being fucking annoying against his ass, but now there was humming.

One of the guys on his line was fucking humming near him and he was this close to tearing out a tongue and giving them something to hum about.

He ducked away, told the fucking hummer to take his place for a minute. It was apparently an emergency since his phone hadn’t stopped buzzing in two minutes.

“Fucking what?” He answered his phone when he was far enough from the line.

Farz sighed, grunted and shifted in almost the same breath. “Suff sprained her ankle.”

Vincent exhaled through his nose, excessively so like his whole body would deflate. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut.

“Where the fuck is she?”

“Right here.” You growled over Farz into the phone.

Farz was holding you up while you limped down the sidewalk the four blocks back to your apartment.

“Easy Suff,” Farz said, taking your waist and easing more of your weight off your bad ankle.

Vincent felt the meter start to rise within him, from genuinely peeved to ticked to pissed the fuck off. The rage would definitely go into his punching bag tonight.

And maybe, if Farz was thoroughly occupied with sleep, he’d give you something to hum over. Maybe, just _maybe_ , you’d enjoy a bit of yellow slushie.

Now that Vincent was thinking about it, his dick was hardening in his pants becoming a full rod of steel. You were going to get it tonight, rage-filled and relentless.

“Goddamn klutz. She said she wanted to dance and she can’t even fucking do that.” Vincent added, dropping a hand to adjust the shrinking space in his jeans.

“I was _fine_ , okay? One of those assholes distracted me,” you said, taking your next step with your bad ankle and instantly crumbling more into Farz.

“What?” Vincent asked, his teeth now clamped together and the word stressing through them. “Did they fucking touch you?”

“No,” you lied.

“Yes,” Farz said at the same time.

You glared over at your boyfriend, the smaller of the two, and his bottom lip jutted out in a concerned pout. How this one could ever hate you at the beginning, you didn’t even know. You quickly forfeited by way of his cuteness and nudged your nose to his temple.

“Farz,” Vincent said, his tone short and bleeding through with agitation. “You get her home, get ice on her damned ankle. You’re telling me about this when I get home.”

Farz hummed with an affirmative then ended the call with slipping his phone into his jacket pocket. His other hand was occupied with your heels, the dingy pair you’d bought online and swore were child’s play to walk in.

“He’s got it out for you tonight,” Farz said finally when you both made it to the bottom of the hill.

“I know,” you hissed, stepping on your bad ankle. “I heard him.”

You followed Farz’s lead around the corner and inside your apartment complex. He called the elevator and leaned you against the wall to wait for it.

“What do you think? Chain me in the basement again?” You asked casually, reaching for the wolf scratch Vincent had branded you with three months earlier.

A fucked-up relationship was scratching the surface of it. You three were the certified fucked-up, freakshow, absolute poster children of ‘toxic relationship’. You and Farz were fine, he was now your favorite little plaything.

Since Vincent marked you, making you a stupid goddamn werewolf too, you were now obsessed with preening and grooming the once-feral-cat-of-a-man Farz. All it took was a few good cuddles and a couple new piercings, along with maybe one or two or five good sloppy blowjobs, and the singular mate of the pack was now yours too.

“I’m thinking a ‘choke on me’ type night. Your knees aren’t broken,” Farz joked darkly as the elevator door slid open.

You hummed, a buttery feeling lining your stomach while your body held a sudden buzz to it. It used to be terror, fighting to stay alive and escape, but now that your sanity was tossed out of the window and ran over like a fat, drunk raccoon, you were up for anything.

‘Suff’, your nickname, was nothing short of a cruel joke. You had a name, you told them the first night when you went to the fucking bar. But now that wasn’t even you. You could barely remember your own name now, it was rattled and thoroughly screwed out of your sick head; your brain was now fermented in goddamned cum that nothing rang a bell about old life.

But that was stupidly freeing.

‘Suff’ was short for ‘sufferer’ because _you suffered Vincent’s insatiable wrath and feral horniness._ You believed it in the first two days, that you were suffering. Now, Suff embraced it, fucking owned it. Your collar, much like your beautiful babe Farz’s was tagged with a bone-shaped dog tag. ‘Suff’, and on the other side, ‘Vincent’s’.

The hierarchy was simple. Vincent. The other two idiots, i.e. you and Farz.

“God, been a while since that,” you said, limping your way into the open elevator with Farz to follow.

You reached for your throat, swallowed to remember the actual bruise lodged right at the back, just beyond your nostrils. “That’s a lie.”

You held onto the waist-level railing as the elevator slid closed, bracing your bad ankle for the stupid lurch of the machine. Farz stood close next to you, offering his free shoulder and arm for you to lean into.

You took the chance, giving him most of your body weight again as your tongue found its way into his blinged out ear. “Be my warm-up?”

“Sorry, Suff, gotta get you some ice for your ankle.” Farz stated, knowing that Vincent was exclusively the first to throat-fuck on any given night.

You groaned, pouted, almost jostled your scantily-clad body against him but remembered your throbbing ankle. “Come in me then.”

Farz chuckled at that. “Did you drink when I wasn’t looking?”

You shook your head then looked to the elevator ceiling in thought, your bottom lip pouting out. “Noo, but the cotton candy martinis are delicious.”

“Sloppy girl,” Farz said as the elevator door jerked to a halt on your floor. He bent suddenly, leaving you to lean over his back, then stood back up with you strewn over his shoulders.

“Careful where your hand is,” you warned, thighs clenching and crossing at Farz’s hand on its way up between your hips. “Keep going like that.”

Farz shook his head, struggling a step before carrying you out of the elevator. You reached up, tugging your bandage mini-skirt down to keep from flashing your poor fucking neighbors then rested your cheek to Farz’s shoulder.

Your eyes shut firmly as you heard Farz’s pockets rustle for the keys. When he made it inside, the room was instantly hotter, the fucking pack cave brimming with heat. He grabbed his key from the door handle, kicked the door closed behind him and dropped you on the bed.

You rolled to the middle, sprawling your warming body over the cotton sheets like a starfish. You stretched your good foot out, angled your hips into the bed and reached behind you to undo the clasps of your skirt.

Farz was in the kitchen, freezer door ajar, while he grabbed handfuls of ice into a dirty dish towel. He sat firmly on the edge of the bed, turned to you and pressed the ice pack to your bad foot, causing you to seethe at the pain.

You rubbed your knees together, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth while you tried to ride out the shooting twists of sprained muscle to an orgasm. Farz watched as you willed yourself to cum, thighs clenching together to get a certain type of friction against your g-string.

“You fucking freak,” Farz said with a disgusted grin, his free hand grabbing at one of your thighs and prying them apart. “Save it.”

You huffed at him, gently scooting your ass against the sheets to floss your g-string further up. Farz growled then, his hand reaching under your skirt and tugging your underwear down to your knees with a quick finger.

“Fucking save it, Suff.”

It was hours before Vincent got home, with you having to withhold the raw sexual gratification for so long. In that time, Farz cooked dinner (normally a chore you both shared) and showered (just another bit of mate quality-time where you usually drank damn city water from Farz’s pristine body and he’d do the same like a couple of dirty birds in a birdbath), neither of which you got to enjoy because you were still focused on the first thing.

Except the need for coming was now turning into a need to piss which, even without Farz having to remind you, you knew would have to wait for Vincent.

Farz was fast asleep, almost as if on-cue, when Vincent finally walked through the front door. It was time for quality wolf-on-wolf time and, though he was a tough little bastard, Farz tapped out too quickly.

No, this was a head-on collision that only you and Vincent would power through, one fit with casual bleeding and bite marks, a few scratches to the face, a tempting thought to chew off his dick, all topped off with culmination of four explosive orgasms and you turning into a goddamn cream puff. It was fucking showtime.

Farz moved you from the bed to Vincent’s Damned Chair, his worn-in leather chair that he sat in and stared at both you and Farz, wondering which one to fuck up first.

But tonight, you were his only option and Vincent had plans. He dropped his bag by the door, shrugged off his heavy leather and let his helmet clatter to the floor before he kicked the door closed behind him.

His eyes, grey and stabbing, were on you across the room. Vincent reached for his belt, undid it then folded it in his hand and pointed at you. “Get your ass over here.”

Naturally, you did what you were told. It was better to go with Vincent than go against him like petting backwards on a porcupine. You limped over to him, fell to your knees and immediately pressed your nose and lips to the tight bulge in his jeans.

Fucking primal, he smelled heady and sweaty. He was probably fucking disgusting, free balling in his jeans like he always did and you were in heaven thinking about it. You were dripping down the insides of your thighs the more you thought about opening your fucking mouth and sucking on his ripe balls while his dick smacked you in the face.

And what of it? It wasn’t like you had anything to be shameful about anymore. Just like Farz said, you were a goddamn freak. And that was what Vincent liked most about you.

His hand found the back of your head, his dull nails sharpening to claws as he smushed your face further into the denim. Your hot breath wormed its way through the fabric, tickled at his dick harder than fucking granite and he was ready to split your face wide open with it.

“So, you broke your fucking ankle?” He asked, a snapping short tone that always seemed to mentally whip you in the back.

Vincent’s free hand unbuttoned his pants, tugged a hip of them down to free his dick right in your face. Even if it wasn’t your fault, his anger was not going to be sated by an explanation.

He wanted hot, fast, quivering, contracting, fucking sniveling results. Vincent was going to wreck you and you were fucking ecstatic about it.

Your tongue lapped out, quickly tasting the underside of Vincent’s cock and your entire body practically disintegrating at the salty film along his hot, veiny skin. He hissed, clutching the back of your skull and guiding your mouth along his shaft.

You nodded once, your eyes flicking up to meet his. He snarled and gripped the base of his dick, pulling your skull back before painting your whore lips with swollen tip.

You moaned, your tongue flicking out to line along his piss slit. Vincent growled outwardly, popping the tip of his dick into your mouth then slamming you down to his pubes.

“I know what you need.” Vincent rolled his shoulders back, relaxed his body as he pissed into your mouth.

Again.

The gargle started because it was surprising and hot in a trickle down the back of your open throat. You relaxed your shoulders back, gazing up at Vincent with a needy glare and swallowed generously at the warm saline drip.

“Fuck yes,” Vincent whispered, dropping his head back to groan at the ceiling. He shook his dick in your mouth, letting the last few drops of his piss dot on your curled tongue. “Now fucking suck it.”

You were instantly gagged on his dick as it was slammed all the way in, hitting the same bruise on the back of your throat as his other hand smacked at your cheek.

“I _said_ , suck it darling. Reveal those pretty little tits to me too.” He ordered.

You reached your hands up and rolled the straps of your bra top down then pushed it down to your waist. Vincent erupted with a growl of approval, his hand dropping from your cheek to grab onto one of your tits.

He squeezed, kneaded it in his palm before grabbing at your nipple and pinching hard, pulling harder. You groaned against his dick, your eyes rolling back as you forced yourself closer to him, spit starting to dribble out of your mouth before he started you on a throat-collapsing pace.

“In your nose, don’t be going purple.” Vincent was using his claw to pinch harder at your nipple, on its way to itchingly jabbing through your sensitive skin. “Next, I’m ruining your pretty little cunt.”

You nodded, garbled, ready for all of it. _Ruin me_.

Vincent pulled you off of him in an instant, pushed you on your back then flipped you onto your hands and knees. “This is what you wore to work? You sure you’re not ready to be a whore?”

You raised your hips in presenting, bowing your shoulders down and spreading your knees apart to show him your dripping pussy. Your fingers went down to your stomach, dipped your middle finger to your clit and started rubbing.

“I’ll be your whore.”

Vincent’s eyes brightened then went furiously dark. “I know you’ll be.”

His arm went around your waist, brought you up to your tiptoes before sinking his goddamn hot dick into you. Vincent carried you over to the bed, twisted you on his dick to face him.

“You wake him, I’ll stop fucking you.” Vincent warned, thrusting his hips harshly into you and pulling a low moan from deep in your belly.

You threw your hands over your head, clenching your growing claws into fists before reaching out to scrape down his chest. The moonlight from the window striped along his body, shining along the beautifully puckered and pale scars on his arms and chest.

You humped your hips up to meet Vincent in a few of harsh, bone-vibrating thrusts. Your ankles trembled, your bad one limping down to the barely brace the bed.

You winced at the pain, bit your lip at the pleasure as Vincent grabbed onto your bad foot and brought it up to rest on his shoulder.

His hand gripped on your ankle, kneaded it through the waves of pain and pleasure. A combination of a moan and groan yoyo-ed in your throat, wanting to fucking explode and kick him away while he kept thrusting.

“What’d I say, I will crush your fucking foot.” Vincent’s grip tightened and you writhed against the bed sheets, your claws deepening in his skin.

His other hand went for your throat, pinning you down to the bed before leaning in, stretching your leg to an uncomfortable bend. Inside you were firing up, the pain still turning to ecstasy the more you held onto it.

Vincent fueled his fucking with annoyance, tilting your chin back to look at Farz sleeping in the corner of the bed. “Look at him, should I wake him? Let him take this fucking and make you beg to join?”

You snarled, lashing out to bite at Vincent’s wrist. He squeezed at your ankle, dropped his head to bite into your neck. Your throat was now on fire, wanting to scream out as Vincent’s thick dick head was slotting perfectly against your g-spot at the same time abusing your cervix.

“Fuck _me, only me,_ ” you pleaded, fucking pouted as you stuttered to a stop, contracting against Vincent’s dick and wiggled for his head to rub, violate and fucking punch at your g-spot.

Your claws worked into his back, kneaded at his skin before sinking them in and pulling out a pained grunt from Vincent. Blood started dripping down his back, wetting your palms. Vincent still worked through your tighter grip with a low moan.

“You’re gonna cum now, or I’m piercing your clit with this fucking claw.” Vincent brought up his hand, showed a fully-sharpened claw on his pointer finger.

You shook your head, you weren’t even halfway there. Even with all the pain he was giving you, the touch of your clit, the biting and the fervent fucking along with the icy pain from earlier, you were barely halfway.

“You’re going to cum, and you’re gonna be quiet when you do it.” Vincent’s finger trailed down the center of your throat, your chest, around your belly button and down between your hips until the claw hooked on the hood of your clit.

You jolted, hiding a hiss as Vincent peeled it back with his terrifying claw before his middle finger tapped against your clit. Suddenly, he was scrubbing, swirling, going to fucking town on it before returning to his pace.

His hand at your throat tightened, pinching at the veins in the sides of your neck and making you dizzy as his nails dug into the bitemarks he left. Vincent stared at you beneath him, a contorted and sniveling mess, just like he wanted.

You were choking on your moans, choking from the mixture of heat and harsh warring on your back and you wanted to squirm away and kick him until he wasn’t putting you at your wits end. Sanity was way past out the window, sure, but now you were losing all grips on reality.

“I’m not gonna-fuck-I’m not gonna-fuck,” you stuttered, repeated while Vincent was focused on abusing your clit and pussy at the same time.

Your back was arching, the normal tingle of a sweet orgasm cracking into fucking lightning whips along your skin. You were getting overworked, overwhelmed, it was not going to come.

Then, Vincent pinched at your clit and you were immediately curling up like a dying bug. You breathed out harshly, your moans trapped under Vincent’s hard grip on your throat.

“What was that?” He asked, cocky and smirking down at you, never letting up on your clit or his pace.

You shook your head, not wanting to come again but it was too late being gripped on and contracting around Vincent’s dick. You whimpered, your body going slack while your heart picked up and came a second time just as quickly.

“You bad, bad girl,” Vincent whispered, releasing his hands from you and grabbing your hips to thrust in a final time, coating your insides with hot cum. He leaned over, kissed you fiercely on the mouth and bit at your bottom lip. “You fucking dumbass.”

You trembled out another whimper. Your bladder was on the verge of erupting, and you were ready for the alpha wolf to get out of you so you could relieve yourself.

Vincent grabbed you, holding you onto his dick and carrying you to the bathroom. “You’re not off the hook yet. I’m gonna tear that ass up next.”


End file.
